


Not too late to start anew

by rydia



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, F/M, Felileth Week, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Black Eagles Route, Mild Sexual Content, Post-Game, falcon knight Byleth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-16
Updated: 2020-07-16
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:07:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25308715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rydia/pseuds/rydia
Summary: After the war against Those Who Slither in the Dark is won, Byleth struggles. Far away from her, so too does Felix. A slight AU in which the S support doesn't happen.Written for Felileth week day 5 (with a prompt from day 6): Life after war (Crimson Flower route)
Relationships: Felix Hugo Fraldarius/My Unit | Byleth
Comments: 13
Kudos: 97





	Not too late to start anew

**Part 1 - Hubert**

When the door to his office slides quietly open, Hubert does not raise his eyes from his desk. There are very few who enter this space without knocking and waiting for his word to enter, and Hubert knows the sounds of each of their footfalls well. So he remains at his task, taking his time decoding the letter that has recently arrived from one of his spies, and not bothering to acknowledge the new presence in the room.

He knows his visitor will wait.

And so she does, silent as a grave. He hears the door click closed, and her quiet footsteps moving across the room, coming to a stop by one of the windows.

For the next ten minutes there is only the ticking of the clock, and the scratch of Hubert’s quill against parchment as he makes his notes. When he finally replaces the quill in the inkstand and raises his head, he finds Byleth staring out the window. She’s chosen the one she always does – the one that overlooks the gardens of Enbarr palace, now finally being tended to again in the aftermath of war. He watches her carefully for a moment, noting the shadows under her too blank eyes.

“Byleth,” Hubert says by way of greeting, finally breaking the silence. “You’ve returned sooner than expected.”

The only part of her that moves is her eyes as she turns her gaze on him. “There were fewer than expected,” she replies, sounding almost disappointed by it.

“I see. That is good news. Our enemies lessen by the day.” He pauses. Byleth’s expression doesn’t change. She hardly even appears to be listening to him. “Do you have a report?”

Her hand reaches into her cloak and pulls out a piece of parchment, tidily rolled and wrapped with twine. Wordlessly, Byleth strides over and drops it on his desk.

Hubert leaves it where it is – her job had been a relatively minor one, though Lady Edelgard had expressed concern that Byleth had insisted on going alone.

It has been almost two years since the end of the war. The first war, the public war – the one against the tyranny of the Church and the one that united all of Fódlan under Edelgard’s rule.

It has only been six months since the end of the second war – the secret war, against Those Who Slither in the Dark. The Agarthans. That war had been somehow more brutal than the first – after all, when foes could take the faces of friends, it was difficult to trust.

But Lady Edelgard prevailed, as she always did, and six months ago they had finally stormed on the Agarthan stronghold – the underground city of Shambhala. There have been pockets of resistance since, and Hubert is determined to ferret them all out, to ensure not one of them will ever harm his lady while she lives or threaten her legacy after she’s gone.

To that end, Byleth has been extremely helpful. Of course, she has been ever since she’d taken Lady Edelgard’s side all those years ago. And Hubert – who had been slower than anyone to trust Byleth – can begrudgingly admit that without her they might not have won.

So he had not really been surprised when she’d led the hunt against the remaining Agarthans after Shambhala. She’d been like a weapon, wielded by Hubert who pointed her in the directions indicated by his spy network. It is the kind of dedication he appreciates in those who serve his Lady but…

… but he is worried. He can see Lady Edelgard is right to be concerned. Hubert should have known better – of course she’d been correct.

He leans back in his chair and regards her, once more noting the distant expression on her face. “Please, sit. Bernadetta once told me I loomed, Byleth, much as you are now. She told me she found it unsettling.”

She blinks. “Am I unsettling you, Hubert?”

“Do not be ridiculous. Sit down,” he scoffs. “And call for some tea if you like, you look dead on your feet and are of no use to Her Majesty like this.”

“No,” Byleth answers steadily. “I’d like to be on my way as soon as possible.”

Frowning, Hubert picks up the bell to call a servant. Byleth may not want refreshments but he certainly needs some coffee. “On your way to where, exactly?”

Byleth gives a tiny shrug. “Wherever I’m needed.”

“Perhaps you are needed here,” he responds sharply.

Her eyes drift away from him, somewhere distant again, and she huffs lightly in what he thinks is annoyance.

“Her Majesty will wish to see you.”

“I was planning on going to her after I spoke to you.” She still seems far away. “I wouldn’t leave without seeing her.”

“Good. Then you may go see her now, because I have nothing for you and I’m busy.”

Her eyes snap back to him. “You just told me to call for tea.”

“Impetuous of me. Have tea with Her Majesty, she misses your tea parties.”

What he thinks is supposed to be a smile twists on Byleth’s face, but it looks wrong – more like an animal grimacing in pain than anything else.

A knock sounds on the door, and when Hubert calls for them to enter, a servant bustles in with a tray containing a mug of his favourite coffee, silently placing it on Hubert’s desk. The servant then bows and asks, “Will Miss Eisner be requiring anything?”

“No,” Hubert answers immediately. “She is leaving. Thank you.”

With another bow the servant leaves, and a scowl crosses Byleth’s face. It at least looks better than her previous expression.

“You must have something that needs to be done.”

“Of course,” he agrees readily. “But not by you. Give Her Majesty my regards.” The last part is unnecessary. It’s only been a few hours since he’d last spoken to the Emperor, after all, but it gets his dismissal across well, and Byleth leaves without another word.

*

When their schedules allow, and if there is no diplomatic event or celebration requiring a feast, Hubert usually takes a quiet dinner with Edelgard, quite often accompanied by Ferdinand and Dorothea. Linhardt, occasionally, if he can be bothered to remember and leave his studies. If any of their other comrades are in Enbarr and available, they too will make the effort. The bonds forged through war are hard to break, and Hubert knows Lady Edelgard finds solace in these comfortable meals.

That evening he expects Byleth to be joining them, but as he slips into his seat in the private dining room, he sees that it is just the usual four of them there.

Small talk is made by Ferdinand and Dorothea as they are served, and Hubert notices Edelgard is quieter than usual. He waits until they are alone before asking, “Lady Edelgard, did you speak to Byleth this afternoon?”

“I did,” she confirms in a quiet voice, clearly discomfited.

“Oh, Edie, I didn’t realise she was back,” Dorothea exclaims, clearly pleased by Byleth’s return until she registers Edelgard’s expression. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m not sure, exactly, but she seemed troubled. She was rather adamant about wanting a new assignment. Hubert, she told me you were being most unhelpful.” There’s an almost accusatory tone to her voice.

His eyebrows raise, faintly amused that Byleth would complain to Edelgard about him. “She was insisting on leaving immediately without taking respite after her last mission. I thought it best to allow her a rest.” At that, Edelgard gives him a small smile, obviously approving.

“We have rarely seen her these past six months,” Ferdinand muses. “She must know she can take a break now – we’ve come so far.”

Edelgard nods slowly. “Our peace was hard won. It is not right that she has not enjoyed it at all. I will ask her to remain in Enbarr for now. Perhaps that will help.”

“I believe it will!” Ferdinand is enthusiastic in his reply. “I look forward to showing her how we have begun to improve Enbarr for all – I recall she was interested in the ideas for education reform. And Dorothea, I’m sure she would enjoy a night at the newly refurbished opera house.”

“Perhaps.” Dorothea gives a wan smile. “But I wonder if it will be that simple.”

“What do you mean?”

Her eyes drop to her plate. “It’s difficult to forget the war, isn’t it? Maybe for Byleth it’s easier to keep fighting than it is to stop and have to think about it.”

Silence falls. Hubert sees Edelgard reach out under the table to squeeze Dorothea’s hand.

“Well then,” Ferdinand says, and Hubert glances at him, seeing the smile he’s forced to his face. “We will help her, won’t we, Hubert?”

He blinks. “How do you suppose _I_ help her, Ferdinand?” Out of everyone – except perhaps for Jeritza – Hubert is sure he has the least moral compunctions about his own actions. He understands his role better than most, even now. Perhaps especially now. He will continue fighting to preserve what Edelgard has built. Ferdinand and Dorothea don’t see what he does from the shadows, and he prefers it that way.

Dorothea laughs at that, small but genuine. “He’s right, Ferdie, I think this one is up to us.”

“We will all assist her in our own way,” Edelgard states regally, her hand retreating back to her side as she smiles warmly at Dorothea. “Hubert, that means I would like you to refrain from giving Byleth any missions until further notice. I cannot keep her here against her will, of course, but I hope she will humour me and stay for a time.”

Hubert tilts his head in acknowledgement. Byleth will stay, he knows, if Edelgard asks. “As you wish, Lady Edelgard.”

*

As he predicts, Byleth stays. Hubert doesn’t see her too often and when he does – at the occasional dinners she attends, or lunch with him and Ferdinand – she is withdrawn despite the efforts of everyone to draw her into the conversation. She takes tea with Edelgard, Dorothea takes her to the opera, she spends time with Linhardt, and Ferdinand enthusiastically tells her of his plans that he and Edelgard are beginning to implement in Enbarr and soon, hopefully, the rest of Fódlan. The only time she ever looks remotely animated is when she’s training, and both Edelgard and Ferdinand end up in the training grounds far more often than usual these days.

Weeks slip by, but still Byleth remains withdrawn and quiet in a way that Hubert can see is worrying Edelgard.

“It’s different to how she was when she first came to Garreg Mach,” she tells him and Ferdinand after a long, and occasionally fraught, meeting with several other ministers over discussions about the former territories of Faerghus and Leicester. The meeting is finally done now, and they are revitalising with tea and coffee. “I think it is as Dorothea says – that Byleth is finding it difficult to cope with the end of the war.”

“Can you offer her a position?” Ferdinand asks. “Surely idleness is not helping.”

Edelgard shakes her head, frustration and concern clear. “I’ve tried, even before all this. She has refused each time.”

“And yet she remains here because you asked it of her,” Hubert says, thoughtful. He wishes Edelgard would not worry as much about Byleth as she does – the former Professor may have her struggles, but she’s strong and he doesn’t want Edelgard taking even more weight upon her shoulders. But he knows that is futile to say – his lady cares so much about Byleth. Too much, he might think, even now when he considers Byleth a trusted friend and ally himself. But Hubert is of the opinion that Byleth is not a woman to be coddled.

No, instead, Hubert believes Ferdinand might have the right idea. “Lady Edelgard, would you not consider letting her resume her work with me? We have–“

“No,” he is interrupted sharply. Softer, Edelgard continues. “No.” Her eyes bore into Hubert’s. “Unless you can tell me that it is necessary for our goals to send her out to hunt the Agarthans again? Can you do that, Hubert?”

The answer is no, and they both know it. Their plans are still progressing well. Byleth might well be a one woman army, even without the inhuman powers she’d possessed before, but she is not necessary like she once had been.

And perhaps that is the problem. That Byleth knows this herself.

*

The solution to the Byleth problem comes to Hubert through – of all people – Caspar, who is back in Enbarr after spending some time in his family’s territories. He too, has spent the last few months following up on leads provided to him by Hubert, leading a small segment of the army on missions that didn’t require the finesse that Byleth working alone brought.

Caspar joins them all that evening at dinner, arriving late. He’s sweaty and dishevelled, making Linhardt wrinkle his nose when Caspar sits beside him.

“You couldn’t have at least bathed before coming to dinner with the Emperor?” he asks, droll as anything as he swirls his spoon through his soup.

Caspar freezes halfway into sitting down, shooting a guilty look up the table at Edelgard.

“It’s fine,” she says, waving a hand with a small smile. While Hubert thinks Caspar could attempt to be a bit more respectful, he knows Edelgard doesn’t want to stand on any ceremony here, among her friends, and the few people she can fully trust.

He takes his seat with a sheepish smile. “Sorry, Edelgard. Byleth kept me busy.”

“Oh?” Her gaze turns curious. Byleth is notably not present at dinner.

“Yeah, we’ve been sparring all afternoon. You know, I don’t think I’m ever going to beat her, but I won’t stop trying.” Caspar begins to butter a bread roll. “Wow, I’m hungry.”

“Sparring?” Ferdinand asks, interested.

“Oh, yeah. You know, she reminded me of Felix. Do you remember how he was?” He laughs. “Kept insisting on another round. That’s why I’m late. I promise I’ll go for a bath after dinner.” He stuffs the roll into his mouth, hardly bothering to chew before he swallows.

 _Fraldarius_.

The conversation swirls around Hubert. He pays enough attention to follow, but his mind is busy elsewhere.

Caspar’s comparison of Byleth to Felix is actually extremely apt. Felix wasn’t someone Hubert had been close to at all – he’d been suspicious of him for a long time, always ready just in case Felix hadn’t _quite_ turned his back on his homeland.

Edelgard had said Hubert was being too paranoid – in this case, at least. Felix is too straightforward to be a spy, she’d said. That’s not where his skills lie. Yes, he’s conflicted, she’d told Hubert. But he won’t change his course.

She had been correct, of course. Hubert had only fully believed it when Felix had cut down his own father at Arianrhod. While Hubert himself had felt no guilt in killing his own father, he knows things were different for Felix.

“Fraldarius,” he says out loud, halting the ongoing conversation.

Edelgard regards him with interest, waiting.

“What about him?” Caspar asks, unsure.

Hubert takes a sip of his wine, thoughtful, before he speaks. “He hasn’t been seen since our victory at Shambhala.”

A raised eyebrow from Edelgard. “Yes. He renounced his title and lands and disappeared. I’m curious where this is going, Hubert.”

“He and Byleth were close.”

“Are you implying something with those words, Hubie?” Dorothea's tone is playful, but he knows she’s just as interested in what he’s saying as Edelgard.

“I do not particularly care about the intimacies of their relationship,” he replies easily, “but it is a fact – they were close.”

Edelgard leans forward. “And you think that has something to do with why Byleth is… how she is now?”

“Wait. What’s wrong with Byleth?” Caspar asks.

Hubert ignores him, directing his answer to Edelgard. “Only Byleth can answer that. But I have tried to keep track of him, as I am wont to do. And while I only have rumours…”

Dorothea sighs. “Oh, I see where you’re going with this. Get her to find Felix, isn’t that right?”

“Indeed. It gives her purpose, she will find her friend, and I’m sure some of you would like to know that Felix is alive and well.” _Presumably_.

“Very clever, Hubert,” Ferdinand beams at him with a wide smile. “Being in Enbarr doesn’t seem to be making her happy.”

“Sadly not,” Edelgard agrees, sorrow crossing her face. But it passes quickly. Even here, Edelgard is unwilling to be vulnerable. “Thank you, Hubert. I will consider it.”

He nods in acknowledgement, and dinner continues, conversation shifting to other topics, but it remains subdued, and Hubert thinks they’re still haunted by Byleth. A ghost that isn’t dead, who wanders Enbarr palace.

*

Hubert does his work well. He believes Felix has been active in the more remote parts of Leicester, and he takes the time to turn some extra eyes in that direction. It doesn’t take him long to be fairly certain of the swordsman’s location. So certain that sending Byleth to “find” him is likely completely unnecessary.

But Edelgard decides to go ahead with the plan, not wanting to set Byleth out on another mindless mission to kill in her name, and also not wanting to see her languishing around Enbarr. She listens to Hubert as he tells her of Felix’s location, and then thanks him with a warm smile.

The following morning, she finds Byleth in the training grounds.

And just after lunchtime on that same day, Hubert stands with Edelgard, Dorothea, and Ferdinand as they watch Byleth gracefully mount her pegasus, giving them all a small smile and wave. That simple action seems to relieve Edelgard.

Dorothea extracts a promise from Byleth to keep in touch, and then the pegasus spreads its wings and they are soon gone, quickly becoming smaller and smaller until the sky is clear again.

“I hope this helps,” murmurs Edelgard.

“I believe it will,” Hubert replies, a sentiment echoed by the others.

Ferdinand looks thoughtful. “Perhaps she will even bring Felix back with her. Wouldn’t that be nice?”

Hubert chuckles. Nice is not a word he’d use when talking about Fraldarius, but he enjoys Ferdinand’s optimism.

**Part 2 - Byleth**

There is a freedom in flying that Byleth hopes to never tire of. It’s one of the few things that bring her joy these days – the wind against her cheeks, her hair wild, the solid feel of Talina carrying her through the air, and the steady, comforting flap of her powerful wings.

Byleth had learned to ride as a young child – growing up as she did, travelling so often, that was a given. But it wasn’t until she’d gone to Garreg Mach did she get the opportunity to learn to fly – a perk to being a professor, what with all the access to wyverns and pegasuses. She’d taken to Talina immediately, bonding with the beautiful white pegasus surprisingly fast. It had taken some adjustment to learn how to fight on horseback and in the sky, but by now Byleth is as comfortable fighting on her pegasus as she is on the ground.

It had been a comfort to have Talina still, in the days of the war. When Edelgard had sacked Garreg Mach, she’d not let anything go to waste. And when Byleth returned, she’d smiled as they’d walked to the stables and told her that Talina had been waiting for her.

The other comfort had been Felix.

Her heart beats quicker at the thought of him.

*

_In the former Alliance_ , Edelgard had said. _North and east of Derdriu. Sometimes nearer the Throat. There have been rumours_.

Byleth knows that Edelgard has been worried about her, and that she’d requested she stay in Enbarr because she was concerned Byleth was running herself into the ground. And Byleth simply hadn’t had the energy to pretend she was okay.

She is exhausted, true, but that’s due to her inability to sleep.

So often she’s longed to have Sothis’s power returned to her, so she could go back. _Back_.

But would it help? She’d still have her memories, and she’d still have her nightmares.

Byleth had followed Edelgard, had helped wage the war. She’d led the army of the Empire into Faerghus and Leicester.

She’d killed… so many. All for the sake of the world Edelgard wanted to build.

Byleth had wanted it too, or so she’d thought at the time.

No, she still does, she thinks. She’s seen the changes they’re trying to make.

But she’d never – not when they were fighting against the Church or the Agarthans – she’d never thought about what came after. Edelgard no longer needs a tactician such as her.

All Byleth has now is her sword. She is a weapon. She had aligned herself with the bloody path Edelgard and Hubert had been planning to cut long before they’d ever met her. She’d done it to help build a better world. It remains to be seen if she’s been successful. If the bloodshed has been worth it.

She no longer has her father, a grief that even now, years later, sometimes splits her open in pain, leaving her gasping. Sothis is gone. _Gone_. Rhea’s death had severed that last link between them. And Felix…

No, perhaps it is a lie to say that she’d never thought about what came after. She’d thought she’d be with Felix, in some capacity. They were always together. Training, fighting, eating. He sat near her during meetings. His eyes lingered on her just as much as hers did on him.

They only parted at night, each to their own rooms.

Or perhaps Felix went back to the training grounds at times, as she sometimes did.

Never did they cross a line into something else. Not even when she had him pinned beneath her in training, her thighs flexing against his sides, his eyes bright, when it would take nothing for her to lean down and capture his mouth with as much enthusiasm with which she’d just put him on his back.

She’d imagined it so often; how Felix would arch up into her, how his hands would touch her. How he’d fight for dominance in that too…

And then, when the war ended, that no matter what they did, they would remain by each others side as they did it.

But they’d never spoken about the future beyond the next battle, and she’d never admitted her feelings, hardly even to herself.

And then, he’d left. Disappeared somewhere in the aftermath of the final battle at Shambhala without a goodbye, despite fighting by her side for the last three years, leaving her wondering if they’d ever even been friends at all. Maybe, in her loneliness, she had built up a relationship in her head that had never truly existed.

After Shambhala, Byleth had only known Felix was alive because she had checked the bodies, searching through the rows of dead Imperial soldiers lined up for people to pay their last respects before the pyres burned. She remembers the frantic beating of her heart back then, how she’d pressed her hand against her breastplate, fearing this weak heart she’d been born with wouldn’t be able to survive the grief of losing someone else, not when she no longer had the power of a goddess keeping her alive.

Every time she’d seen a dark splash of hair, or someone wearing teal, Felix’s favoured colour, bile had risen in her throat, and her heart would stop beating for a second, a second that lasted for an eternity as she wondered if it would ever start again.

But Felix was not among them and Byleth knew her overwhelming relief at that was selfish.

*

She didn’t blame Felix for leaving. Shambhala had been the final march. After that… there was to be peace. But not for people like her and Felix, it seems.

He’d been determined to cut his own path, far from the expectations that had been set out for him from his birth. He’d come to her class because of her strength, he’d said, and he’d sought her out more than any other student for extra training and sparring.

And he’d stayed with the Black Eagles when Edelgard made her move, siding with the Empire, immediately making himself an enemy of his homeland.

She’d seen it wear him down over the course of the war even as he continued to call Dimitri an animal that had to be put down. And then, a couple of months before they marched on Shambhala, he’d said words she should have paid more attention to at the time.

*

They are in Fhirdiad, where Agarthans still wear faces not their own, trying to wrest back control of the city into their hands.

More specifically, they are in one of the residences of the former royal family of Faerghus. The building has been stripped bare, everything picked clean after years of war and poverty. And now the floors are stained with the blood of the Agarthans.

Byleth takes down the last dark mage standing, and turns to Felix, checking his condition, satisfied he's unharmed.

He’s standing as still as a statue, staring out one of the large windows into the garden beyond. The glass of the window has long since been shattered, and a cold wind is blowing in the heavy rain that falls outside. He doesn’t seem to notice it.

“We used to play in that garden.”

The words, softly spoken, take a moment to register with Byleth, still on high alert from the fighting, her heart racing in her chest, the beating of it thunderous in her ears.

“What?” she asks, brushing sweaty, tangled hair back off her face.

Felix shakes his head. “Nothing.” His gaze drops down to his sword that still drips with blood. His next words are hard to hear over the sound of the rain pounding on the roof. “I really am no better than him.”

Byleth doesn’t like the look in his eyes, and she steps over the bodies between them, sheathing her own bloody sword.

“Felix?” She reaches out to touch his arm, but he steps away, leaving her hand suspended in the air.

He doesn’t raise his head to look at her.

“General Eisner!” A call from one of the soldiers has her turning her head, seeing the man approaching, and listening as he tells her they’ve routed the enemy in the east wing of the house and that the area is secure.

Her hand falls back to her side.

She feels Felix move, and she turns briefly to watch him stalk away, leaving drips of blood that isn't his across the floor, until he disappears around a corner.

*

Byleth remembers the pain she’d felt when he’d pulled away from her that day. She hadn’t understood why it hurt so much to watch him walk away from her. All she’d wanted to do was go after him, but Felix still confused her sometimes, even after knowing him so long. So she hadn't. She'd left him alone, thinking that was best.

Felix had pushed her and pulled her, challenged her all the time, and his smiles were a hard won prize that she cherished. The feel of his eyes on her made her pulse race, and his proximity made the still unfamiliar patter of her heart dance. But those smiles had whittled away, and while there may have been a brief time when she might have touched him casually – a hand on the shoulder, a brief touch of his arm – that was no more, and the only time they touched was when they sparred. And there had been an edge to it, something desperate about the way Felix went at her, teeth bared, eyes wild, and she’d wanted to ask–

_Do you blame me? For the deaths of your father and friends?_

And no matter what answer he might have given, if she’d ever been brave enough to ask, perhaps Byleth would have told him–

_You should._

*

She had not expected Felix to disappear after the war was won, but as the realisation had sunk in that _that_ is exactly what he’d done, Byleth found she wasn’t really surprised.

What she was surprised about, is that she had the capacity to hold even more grief inside her.

This time, she grieved for a man that wasn’t even dead.

*

_It is not yet finished_ , Hubert had told her back at the Imperial army camp after Shambhala. _We are winning, but our enemy is resilient. Our methods must change to defeat them._ In his eyes had been a question. Or perhaps a challenge.

And Byleth, not knowing what to do other than fight, and aching from wounds both physical and not, had said, _tell me where to find them._

Hubert’s smile had been pleased. _You are a fine weapon, Professor._

Meant fondly, she knew, but true nonetheless.

*

She doesn’t have to go searching for Felix, Byleth knows – if indeed, it is Felix that Hubert’s spies have reported seeing.

Although she doesn’t doubt that it is, really. Hubert doesn’t make mistakes.

She doesn’t have to do _anything_. She could live a comfortable life wherever she wished, and she’d want for nothing, because Edelgard had told her to simply name her wishes and she’d grant them if she could.

Byleth hadn’t known what to ask for.

Felix had left, and it’s likely he didn’t want to be found. He’d informed Edelgard before Shambhala that he wanted nothing to do with his ancestral lands of Fraldarius – or anything in Fearghus.

And then he’d fought one last battle with them, and left.

It’s very possible he doesn’t want to be found. And if Byleth finds him, what then?

Perhaps it will be enough to see him. From a distance. And she can leave, happy in the knowledge that he is alive and well.

If Sothis were still with her, Byleth knows she’d scorn this attempt to lie to herself.

*

The day is clear and still, even at the height she’s flying, and Byleth makes good time across Adrestia and over the Airmid River. As she begins to enter Goneril territory, though, her guard goes up.

The Almyrans have been attacking the border with more frequency these past few years – since not long after the battle with Rhea in Fhirdiad. It had taken months to find out the reason, as not even Hubert had spies beyond the border back then, and the Almyrans weren’t interested in talking.

None of them had expected to learn that Claude von Riegan was also _Khalid_ , prince of Almyra. And it appeared the king was not happy about the death of his son.

_All my hopes have fallen to ash._

Byleth hears Claude’s final words often in her nightmares, sees his defeated expression. How wide his eyes had grown as Edelgard swung her axe. He’d fallen to the ground like that, green eyes still open, blood splashed across his face.

Hilda had been the same, though it had been Byleth’s sword and not Edelgard’s axe that brought her death.

Unsurprisingly, Hilda’s brother had not taken the news of her death – or of Claude’s, or of the Alliance in general – well. His rebellion had been put down, ending with his own death.

Leaving the border at risk.

And even now, though Edelgard is attempting diplomacy to foster better relations with Almyra, Byleth doesn’t know if it will work or if someday another war will break out.

Byleth finds… she finds she doesn’t care. More selfish thoughts, because she had both her hands, tarnished and bloody, in the events that have led to this.

And today, she doesn’t want to be ambushed by any fleet of Almyran wyverns, so she’s careful as she travels north, the mountains guiding her, looking for the small town that Hubert’s notes had indicated.

The skies remain clear.

*

The problem with a pegasus, is that she stands out. They’re less common here than in other parts of the country, and Talina has the look of a high bred war pegasus. So close to Goneril territory, those who fought for Edelgard aren’t always popular.

Byleth had considered renting a room for the night, but it’s clear it’ll be safer finding the information she needs and immediately leaving. It’ll be a night under the stars for her, far from anyone else.

Hubert had been clear in his instructions for initiating contact with his person here, and Byleth suspects whoever it is will have a good idea who _she_ is.

Still, she finds the stable and pays over more coin than necessary to take care of Talina, wary of anyone who might try to steal her – not that they’d get far – or try to kill Byleth herself to get at the pegasus.

They wouldn’t get far with that either.

And then she goes to the nearby tavern for a hearty meal, gulping it down as she watches a woman with a hard, lined face behind the bar. Her dark hair is streaked with silver, and her hands are quick.

Byleth makes her way over to order a drink as soon as she’s eaten. The woman barely spares her a glance as she slides an ale over the wooden counter top.

“The forests of Goneril sure have changed,” Byleth says, and then takes a sip, watching the woman’s face carefully.

She goes still for a split second, eyes cutting to Byleth. “But the owls are still around,” she replies, voice gruff. The woman assesses the tavern carefully. There’s no one sitting near Byleth, and the place is mostly quiet. Byleth has timed it well, in the lull before the labourers get off work.

“Well?” The woman asks in a low voice, grabbing a cloth and wiping the counter.

“I’m looking for a swordsman.”

The bartender scoffs, her eyes falling on the sword by Byleth’s side. “Don’t look like you need one.”

There is a finesse to this, Byleth knows. A way of saying what you mean while saying nothing at all.

She has no patience for it. “Faerghus accent. Amber eyes. He has long dark hair,” she says, failing to stop her voice from rising in irritation. “Usually wears two swords. I doubt you’ve ever seen a swordsman so talented. Very handsome.”

Midway through her tirade, the woman has stopped pretending to look busy, instead staring at Byleth with a raised eyebrow. Now, her eyes flicker beyond Byleth for a second. “Might know someone matching that description. How handsome are we talking?”

Byleth quashes down the instinctual urge to reply _extremely_ , because she’s not getting drawn into something silly. This woman works for Hubert and should know better.

But a sharp inhale of breath behind her draws her attention, and Byleth spins on her stool, immediately alert, heart suddenly racing.

There, standing before her is a handsome man with amber eyes that are staring at her in disbelief. His dark hair is long, swept up into a messy bun. By his side are two swords. His mouth is open in surprise, and there’s a faint blush across his face.

 _Hubert’s spy network is better than I thought_ , Byleth thinks as she exhales shakily, taking in Felix’s face for the first time in months. She hadn’t been prepared to see him so soon. She’d thought she’d have more time to really face the fact that she’d be seeing him again, this man that she loved.

And oh, does she love him, a realisation that came to her too late, once he’d left. It sits in her, mixed up with grief and anger, and the knowledge that he doesn’t feel the same way.

Her palms are sweating.

“Hey!” The woman’s sharp voice and knuckles rapping on the counter penetrates Byleth’s shock, and she looks back at her, blinking rapidly. “Pay for your drink before you take off with your handsome swordsman.”

Byleth fumbles with her coin purse, uncharacteristically clumsy. She doesn’t even want the damn drink anymore.

“Here.” A rough and familiar voice rolls over her, making her shiver. Suddenly, Felix is by her side, a clink of coins as he drops them on the counter. “And get me one, too.”

With a nod and another cock of her eyebrow, the bartender does so. As she prepares the drink, an interminable silence sits between her and Felix.

When the drink is finally slid over to him, Felix turns to Byleth, his expression shuttered. He jerks his head in the direction of a more private corner of the tavern and walks away, not checking to see if she’s following.

But she is, of course, because that’s why she came here. To see him. For _this_.

But now, as Byleth is looking at his face across from hers, and their legs brush under the table, she finds she is at a complete loss as to what to say to him.

**Part 3 - Felix**

The fight had been too easy.

With a grunt, Felix withdraws his sword from the final bandit, shoving the body away with a foot. It hits the ground with a thud, leaving him the last man alive in the small campsite.

There isn’t much here for him to take, he knows. These bandits had been marauders, opportunists. Maybe forced into this due to poverty – Felix doesn’t know or particularly care. And the people of the town had little money to appeal to whatever noble the Emperor has left in Goneril to help them.

This job won’t pay much, but he’ll have a roof over his head and food for a few days.

And whatever he can find here. The townspeople said he could keep the spoils.

So here is he, pulling boots off a dead man.

He’s no better than the men he’s just killed.

*

Edelgard’s grand plans and reforms haven’t reached this part of Fódlan yet.

Felix suspects the former Alliance is worse off than it had been under Claude’s rule, despite the chaos he’d been dealing with when he’d been Duke. These days, the Almyrans raid, the bandits run wild, and the people are poorer than ever.

It’s probably the same in Fraldarius, Felix thinks. And in Gautier and Galatea. Maybe Fhirdiad is better off, just like Derdriu is in Leicester. He wonders if Sreng has been posing the emperor as much trouble as Almyra has been, but at least she hadn’t killed a secret member of Sreng’s royal family.

He sometimes wonders if Edelgard is pleased with the world she’s made.

*

He finds a meagre stash of coins in the bandit camp. All of it goes into his own pocket.

*

It takes Felix a few hours to get back to the town, and he immediately seeks out the blacksmith – who appears to have taken on the role as leader to the people here – to let him know the bandits won’t be bothering them anymore.

The man’s relief is obvious and he hands over a small coin purse to Felix with no haggling, telling him the innkeeper would give him a room, and that he himself would take care of any repairs his weapons might need.

 _That_ is definitely an offer Felix will take him up on.

*

Felix immediately goes to the tavern, needing a meal. He’d set out for the bandit camp the previous day, and had attacked them early in the morning, taking them by surprise while they still slept.

He’s hungry.

When he enters, he scans the room. There’s only a handful of people, a few eating, and some already in their cups.

He walks on silent feet towards the bartender, who is looking at someone sitting by the bar.

Felix freezes, registering the dark blue hair of the woman at the counter. The exact same shade of hair he’s thought about every night for… _years_.

And for years before that he’d thought about the same woman with her other shade of hair colour.

It can’t be.

And then he hears her speaking.

“… wears two swords. I doubt you’ve ever seen a swordsman so talented. Very handsome.”

His heart thunders in his chest.

 _Byleth_.

Is she looking for him?

_Did she just call him handsome?_

The woman behind the bar glances back at Felix with an arch expression. She says something else to Byleth, but Felix can’t hear it over the rushing in his ears.

Byleth spins on the chair, eyes widening as she sees him, and Felix drinks her in like a man parched. When the bartender draws Byleth’s attention back to her, his irritation flares, and he throws some coins at her even though he’s supposed to be getting this for free.

He’s not sure what to do, or what to think. But Byleth is here. Looking for him. It has to be him.

_I doubt you’ve ever seen a swordsman so talented._

He takes a large gulp of ale to wet his suddenly dry throat, now finding himself seated opposite Byleth in a quiet corner of the room.

The silence stretches out as they each catalogue the changes in each other. Felix can feel his neck heating up under her scrutiny, even though he’s doing the exact same thing to her. Her legs brush against his under the small table, and he shifts them away.

“Well?” he asks, abrupt. “What are you doing here? Were you looking for me?”

Byleth’s eyes stay on his face. “Yes. I wanted to know if you were alright.”

Felix looks away, guilt rearing up in him. It’s never far away, because thoughts of Byleth are never far away. And yet, still he snaps at her. “I’m fine, obviously. How did you know I was here?”

Now her gaze does drop, her shoulders sagging, and Felix realises how tired she looks. When she answers, her voice is soft. “Hubert.”

He scoffs. “Of course. And do either of you have nothing better to do than track down people who don’t want to be found?”

“Hubert keeps track of everyone,” Byleth says, sounding distant. She’s still looking down at her drink, and for some reason it annoys Felix even if he’s never liked too much eye contact himself. It’s just so unlike Byleth.

“And you?”

She shrugs. “No, I suppose I don’t really have anything better to do.”

Felix doesn’t know what to make of that. He’d thought Byleth would have some prestigious position in this new world that Edelgard is building.

“And you’re not here because the Emperor wants something from me?” His tone is sharper than he intends.

A huff, and her head raises again. Now, her eyes are more flinty, and she's obviously getting annoyed at him. “No. Edelgard and Hubert asked me to find you for my own peace of mind.” Her voice is still low, but Felix can hear her growing anger. “I knew you probably weren’t dead, though, because I checked every corpse at Shambhala. But it’s nice to know for sure.”

He pales.

With a loud scrape of wood against the floor, Byleth pushes back her chair and stands up. For a moment she simply watches him, as if waiting for a response, but when he drops his eyes away from her accusatory stare, he hears her turn and walk away.

He looks up in time to see her disappear out the door and fear seizes him. Propelling himself upwards, Felix takes off after her, his mood souring further at the sight of the bartender watching him closely. Her expression might be bored, but he now knows exactly who Hubert’s contact in this town is, and no doubt she’ll receive a nice reward for telling him all about this.

But he can’t think too much on that now, not when Byleth is walking away from him. He’s a hypocrite, he knows, because he’d done the same to her, in a fit of despair after Shambhala. And once he’d left, he hadn’t known how to go back.

Outside, the town is busier than earlier, but Byleth is easy for him to spot, striding through the street quickly, getting glances as she goes.

Felix hurries after her, aware of the glances he’s getting himself, and doesn’t slow down when someone calls out their thanks for his work with the bandits.

He catches up to Byleth at the stables, where she’s just started speaking to the stablemaster, her expression still annoyed. They both turn as he approaches.

“Byleth,” he says in a low voice, resisting the urge to glare at the stable owner. “Can we talk?”

Her eyes narrow. “No.”

Anguish washes over him at that, knowing that he’s completely lost her, knowing that he really is no better than–

“I want to spar.”

“ _Now_?” is his immediate reaction, having not expected that.

“Yes.” Byleth’s chin raises and her arms cross. “Have you changed that much?”

“… No.” He should have expected this, really. This is what they’ve always done.

“Well, then.” She turns back to the other man, who is looking on with a bemused expression. “Where can we can get training weapons?”

*

The blacksmith’s face had creased in momentary confusion when Felix approached him to ask for training weapons. Clearly, whatever he’d expected the mercenary to ask for, it hadn’t been that.

Now Felix is facing Byleth across a small clearing outside the town – they’d been trailed by some children, obviously curious about the two strangers, until Felix had turned and snapped at them to go home.

They’re alone here, far enough away for the sounds of the town to have quieted.

Byleth hasn’t said a word to him since the stables, and Felix watches her test the weight of the training sword, giving a few experimental swings.

He does the same, letting himself fall into the familiar state of mind with a weapon in his hand.

He’s sparred countless times with Byleth over the years. First as a student, when he’d never bested her, and then after she’d returned.

It had been two months into her return when he’d first beaten her – a close win, but a victory nonetheless. Since then, they’ve been evenly matched, and no win has ever been easy. The slightest mistake costs the victory, even more so as they grew ever more familiar with each other.

Byleth still doesn’t say anything as she raises her sword in challenge, face blank.

It makes his heart ache, because it’s so familiar.

He’s missed this.

But that doesn’t mean he’ll go easy on her. Felix doesn’t have it in himself to do that, just as Byleth doesn’t.

So he also remains silent as he raises his own sword.

He attacks first, their swords clashing together before Byleth breaks away, moving quickly to try get a jab into his side. But Felix knows her tells, and is able to avoid it, and parry her next attack.

Each movement is quick and powerful. Brutal. Felix feels each clash of their swords rattle up his arms. Behind her own weapon, Byleth’s eyes narrow, calculating and considering, anger still present.

He’s missed _her_.

His world narrows down to Byleth, and Felix doesn’t even feel the tiredness from his day of travelling and fighting, or the aches and bruises he’d picked up against the bandits. He feels revitalised, more alive than he’s felt in months, even while his guilt still pricks at him.

And still they don’t speak, not beyond grunts and occasional hisses of pain as a hit lands. The grass underfoot quickly becomes trampled.

Felix’s first mistake is when he laughs; a breathless chuckle that slips out involuntarily after he lands a hit Byleth really should have parried.

Her lips thin as she dances backwards, out of his reach, before circling around him. Felix stays still, catching his breath as he follows her movement. She might have made a comment at a moment like this before – perhaps a compliment for him, or a small twist of her lips that might be pleased at his progress, or rueful for her own error.

Perhaps that’s his second mistake, thinking that this is the same as before he’d left her, and she’d had to search a pile of corpses just to be sure he wasn’t dead. “Weak, Byleth. Have you gotten lazy these past few months in Enbarr?” he asks, a challenge in his voice.

Still, Byleth says nothing. She doesn’t smile like she might have before. Her only answer is a brief narrowing of her eyes before she charges forward with an attack that Felix easily parries. But she follows it up quickly, her strikes precise and sharp. One lands on his thigh, sending him backwards, and she presses her advantage, deadly and silent, like the Ashen Demon she’d once been.

Felix does all he can to block, not being given any space to counterattack. He steps backwards.

His back hits a tree, and the tip of Byleth’s sword presses against his throat.

“Yield,” she snarls, reminding Felix so much of _himself_ that it unsettles him. But he doesn’t stop to dwell on it, he can’t, because he has his opening, and his sword comes around, aiming for her stomach–

But Byleth moves fast, and the pressure at his throat is gone. His sword swings through empty air, and this time, it’s his turn to press forward, getting himself away from the tree and back into the centre of the clearing.

His third mistake is realising that this is what she wanted, to have him think he had her on the defensive. Byleth’s sword slips past his guard, landing a blow on his side that makes him wince before, with a flick of her wrist so fast he almost misses it, she knocks his own sword out of his hands, and strikes his legs again.

This time Felix goes down, and she’s on top of him immediately, the edge of her sword once more pressed against his neck while the weight of her body holds down his legs.

Felix stares up into her wild eyes, his chest heaving. The sting of being disarmed and losing is there, as it always is, but his mind is quickly becoming more concerned with other things – the heat of Byleth against him, her thighs flexing by his sides. Things he’s experienced before and always enjoyed and that now shock him with a new intensity.

“I yield,” he says, voice hoarse, fighting back the urge to do something stupid like tangle his hands in her hair or grab her hips and grind against her.

It’s not the first time he’s had thoughts like this.

The sword doesn’t move from his throat. If they were fighting with steel, he’d be bleeding.

“You left,” Byleth says, in the same harsh tone she’d ordered him to yield with.

Felix closes his eyes as the guilt rears up in him again. “I had to.” He couldn’t have stayed. He couldn’t go back to Fraldarius, not after turning his back on his country so long ago. He couldn’t go to Enbarr with Byleth, and taken whatever position Edelgard might have offered him.

Not after killing his father, his friends, his king. And if Dimitri had been the boar king, what did that make Felix?

The sword goes slack against his throat. “You left _me_ ,” Byleth whispers.

His eyes snap open as he feels her move and without thinking, he shifts so he can grab her wrists, her sword falling to the ground beside his head. There’s something in him that knows if he lets her walk away now he really won’t ever see her again, and he can’t allow that.

Byleth stills, but her eyes are still stormy.

“I’m sorry.” Felix’s voice is hoarse. His grip tightens, a silent plea for her not to leave. But she pulls her arms away, and he lets go.

He expects her to climb off him and let him up, but she doesn’t. Instead, Byleth crosses her arms and asks, “Are you really?”

Dropping his arms back to ground, trying to resist the urge to touch her again, Felix makes a noise of frustration. “Of course I am. Let me up.”

She still doesn’t move. “Why did you leave?”

“What else was I supposed to do?” he snaps. “The war was over. I had no place with them.”

“Them?” Byleth’s head tilts to the side. “Your friends?”

“I–“ Not knowing what to say, he trails off, trying not to fidget under her stare, or think too much about how she’s still straddling him.

Byleth leans forward, her arms uncrossing so her hands rest on his chest, fingers curling into the fabric of his clothes.

His mouth goes dry.

“What about _me_?” she asks fiercely before slamming her mouth against his.

Felix starts in surprise under her, eyes wide as he lies there and lets Byleth kiss him. It doesn’t last long before she’s pulling away, and he realises he’s not ready for this to end. His hands, which had still been lying uselessly beside him, reach up to tangle in her hair, and he raises himself to follow her lips, taking advantage of her gasp to slip his tongue into her mouth, tasting her for the first time.

Running on a kind of instinct he’s very much not familiar with, Felix smooths one hand down Byleth’s back, pressing her into him, a wild noise escaping him when she slides her tongue against his, kissing him back with equal urgency. Taking her off guard, Felix surges upwards, flipping Byleth onto her back and trapping her beneath him. She doesn’t seem particularly bothered, yanking his face back to hers with perhaps slightly more force than necessary, and arching up into him. In return, Felix grinds himself into her centre, growing hard against her, hands curling around her thighs to pull her legs up around him. Byleth locks her ankles around his back, forcing him to make shorter thrusts against her, but when he finds a spot that makes her shudder and moan into his mouth, he takes his time to grind more slowly into her in that position, relishing both the friction on his cock and her stuttered moans.

When Byleth throws her head back, gasping for breath, Felix doesn’t let up, unleashing years worth of pent up feeling as he bites and kisses his way down her neck, yanking her cloak out of the way, getting more and more annoyed with the clothes they’re both wearing. Her fingers are in his hair again, pushing his face further into her neck, her thighs tightening around his waist.

He hears Byleth moan his name, and it makes him grind into her again, long and slow.

“ _Felix_!” There’s an urgency in her breathless voice this time, and the hands in his hair pull him back. “Stop.”

Bewildered at her sudden change in attitude, Felix stills and tries to get his bearings, about to ask her what’s wrong when he realises she isn’t even looking at him. Her head is still tilted back, but her eyes are focused on the child standing a few feet away.

Swearing in surprise, Felix scrambles off Byleth in haste, though he doesn’t stand. Instead he sits upright and draws his knees up, willing his erection to disappear. He bites back the urge to swear again and focuses on the child as Byleth also sits up, taking a deep breath and trying to smooth down her hair.

The girl is one of the children who had followed them when they first left the town. Felix frowns, wondering if she’d been hidden all this time, watching them spar and then…

His face colours in horror.

“We were brawling,” he rushes out.

Byleth turns to him, expression incredulous, and the child huffs. “I know what you were doing. I live on a _farm_ , you know.”

They both stare at her for a beat. Felix guesses the girl can’t be more than twelve, but she speaks like she’s the Emperor.

Byleth drags a hand down her face, her face that's still flushed from his kisses, and Felix realises – in a heart soaring moment – that she’s trying not to smile. “Never mind that,” she says. “Can we help you?”

“Are you the pegasus lady?”

Any hint of amusement falls from Byleth immediately. “I am,” she says warily.

The girl holds out a hand. “If you give me a gold piece, I’ll tell you some information you need to know.”

Felix raises his eyebrows. _This child._

With a huff, Byleth stands. “Someone’s trying to steal her, I’m sure,” she states bluntly. “Take this.” She reaches into one of the small bags tied by her waist and withdraws a handful of coins. “Promise me you’ll go straight home.”

The girl eyes the coins in Byleth’s hand. “I promise,” she says, with all the solemnity of the nuns back at Garreg Mach.

“Alright.” Byleth drops the coins into the girl’s hands, who immediately clutches them to her chest and looks up at Byleth wide-eyed, like she can't quite believe that worked. “Now go home,” Byleth finishes with a stern tone, and the girl nods, a smile spreading across her face.

“Thanks! Hope your pegasus is still there!” she calls out as she turns and takes off across the field.

Byleth shakes her head and turns back to Felix.

“You gave her too much. She only asked for a coin.”

Byleth shrugs. “I don’t need it. Did you see her clothes? Her family aren’t rich.”

He lets out a long breath, knowing she’s right. Suddenly, embarrassment sneaks over him as he remembers just what they’d been doing when they’d been interrupted, and his eyes fall to the ground.

An uncomfortable silence stretches out, until Byleth finally says in a monotone, “I need to get back before Talina kills someone.”

 _Talina_. She was a beautiful pegasus, Felix remembers, but a hellion. She’d gore anyone with that horn on her head that tried to steal her.

Byleth is turning on her heel to leave when Felix stands. “I’ll go with you.”

She only shrugs minutely in response, before breaking into a run. Figuring that’s as good as he can expect until they sort out this mess, Felix follows.

*

The stablemaster meets them at the edge of town, wringing his hands and apologising to Byleth, saying he’d tried to stop them – _them_ being some group of down and outs whose lives haven’t improved despite all the promises of the Emperor.

Byleth only nods in response, hand settling on the hilt of her sword as she strides towards the stables, Felix by her side.

It’s chaos when they get there. There’s a lot of yelling, and the other horses in the stables are clearly stressed, snorting and stamping in their stalls. Talina has injured two of the men trying to pull her from her own stall, while the other two are yanking on the rope they’ve managed to get around her neck.

No one is dead. Yet.

Felix can see that the men are obviously just opportunists and don’t actually know what they’re doing. This is the worst way to go about trying to get a pegasus. They didn’t even seem to know that they’d need a woman, for a start. And when confronted with two clearly experienced swordspeople, the men quickly decide losing their lives over this isn’t worth it.

Felix glares at them silently as they help their injured comrades out of the stables to get them to the healer, while Byleth tries to comfort Talina, who remains agitated. Not knowing what to do, Felix goes to try and settle down the other horses, but he’s never been that great with him, and he has to shove back thoughts of Sylvain and Ingrid even as he attempts to mimic what he'd seen them do with their own horses, so long ago.

The stablemaster soon returns, briefly speaking to Byleth before getting to work with the other horses.

At a loss, Felix lingers, watching Byleth stroke Talina’s head, hand feeding her some food the stablemaster had given her.

He doesn’t know if she wants him here. All he knows is that he doesn’t want to walk away from her again. He’d done it once, and it had been a stupid thing to do. He can’t do it again, especially not after what just happened in that field.

As if sensing his eyes on her, Byleth looks up from Talina, catching his gaze. But she quickly looks away again, a flush spreading across her cheeks.

Felix swallows down his nerves and steps closer, standing by the edge of the stall, not wanting to spook the still nervous pegasus by going any closer.

“Byleth?” He waits until she looks up at him again, making the effort to hold her gaze. “I really am sorry.”

Her face closes off, and she turns back to Talina. “I understand. You can go.”

The dismissal cuts through Felix, making him recoil, but the hurt quickly gives way to anger. “I can _go_? That’s all you have to say? You’re the one that came looking for me.”

He can see Byleth’s shoulders tense before she turns back to him, a flicker of anger crossing her own face. Marching over to him, she crosses her arms, glaring at him. “Yes, I did. And I’m _not_ sorry about it. And I’m not sorry for kissing you either, even if you are.” Talina whinnies behind her, as if in agreement.

“I’m not sorry about that,” he blurts out.

Byleth blinks, anger leeching away. “You’re not?”

“No. I’m sorry for you leaving you, not for–“ he can feel his neck getting hot ”–that.”

“Oh.” Now she looks a little chagrined, and Felix realises she’d misread his earlier words.

“I, uh, I have a room. At the inn. If you’d like to…” He trails off, shrugging, and when Byleth’s eyes widen, Felix realises how that sounds and hastily adds on, with acute embarrassment, “ _Talk_. If you’d like to talk.”

Her eyes drop away from him and she half turns back to Talina. “I can’t. I think it’s better that I leave just in case anyone comes back for her.”

“You can’t leave,” he responds, horrified by the idea.

“You could just sleep here.” The unexpected interruption from the stablemaster make them both startle, and Felix turns to the man with a glare, who looks unperturbed. In fact, he looks slightly amused.

“Mind your own business,” Felix snaps.

But Byleth looks thoughtful.

“We’ve everything you might need,” the stablemaster goes on, ignoring Felix. “Have to stay sometimes when they’re foaling, you know. Free of charge to you both, of course, as an apology for today’s mess.”

Byleth tilts her head to the side, regarding the man solemnly. “Have any whiskey?”

*

It’s later, when the sun has set and they’re passing a bottle of whiskey between each other, that Felix tells her, tongue loosened by alcohol and the fear that if he says nothing, this will be the last time he sees her. He doesn’t want more regrets.

“My father is dead. Glenn is dead. Dimitri is dead. Sylvain is dead. Ingrid is dead.” Felix lists the names off bleakly. “Faerghus is dead. And I am alive.” He takes a long pull of the whiskey, enjoying the burn of it, and then shoves the bottle across the small table they’re sitting at, indicating Byleth can take it.

Behind them, in the stalls, one of the horses makes a low noise, and is answered by another.

Byleth is silent for a long time. Felix can feel her eyes on him, but he doesn’t look up from the flame in the flickering oil lamp that sits on the table. He knows she will not give him false platitudes and empty words – she’s been with him since he’d struck down his own father. She’d helped him bury his childhood friends.

“Do you regret it?” she finally asks. “Following Edelgard.”

His head snaps up. “Unbelievable,” he mutters, “that you still think I was following Edelgard.”

Byleth’s mouth opens in surprise, but no words come out.

“I joined the Black Eagles because of your strength and to get away from the boar. Edelgard had nothing to do with it.” Talking about Edelgard makes him agitated, and that’s what makes him keep speaking. “That’s why I left. Because I could never see you leaving her side.” He clamps his mouth shut then, feeling like he’s said too much and reaches across the table to grab the bottle.

But Byleth is quick, and her hand snaps to grasp the neck of the bottle just as Felix lifts it, stopping him from taking it. They both still, staring at each other over the bottle they’re both holding. The only movement is the amber liquid inside, sloshing from being jostled.

“I believed in a lot of what Edelgard was trying to accomplish,” Byleth says, holding his gaze. The fierce expression lit by the low flame of the lamp has him mesmerised. “But I have regrets.” She pauses. “Edelgard would like me to stay in Enbarr, but I’ve refused everything she’s offered. I’ve spent the last six months hunting down Agarthans, going wherever Hubert ordered me.”

She drops her hand from the bottle, leaving Felix holding it alone in mid-air for a moment, before he puts it down, drink forgotten. “And now?”

“I came to find you, didn’t I?”

Felix blinks in surprise, considering what that means, thinking about how much Byleth sounds like _him._

She snatches up the bottle and takes a pull, before placing it back on the table a little too hard, making it thud loudly, but Felix can hardly hear it over the hammering of his heart.

Byleth stands. “You’re still alive, Felix, and I love you. So what are you going to do about it?”

His breath catches and he stares up at her in shock, replaying what she’d just said, trying to figure out if he’s misheard or misinterpreted her words. He stares at her so long that the anger that had driven Byleth to say it seems to dry up, and her eyes fall to the ground.

“Forget it.”

She begins to turn away, but Felix is up out of his chair, rounding the table and grabbing her hand before she can go anywhere. Her eyes widen as he slides his free hand into her hair, tilting her face up so he can kiss her, drawing her lower lip between his.

“How do you not know,” he says against her mouth, “that I love you too.”

She turns slightly in his grasp, fisting her hands in the fabric of his shirt and biting down on his lip, sending a jolt of pain – but mostly arousal – through him.

Pulling away slightly, Byleth’s eyes narrow. “How can I know if you never said?”

Felix can feel himself flushing, and he darts his eyes away from her face. “Just thought you might,” he mutters.

“You thought I might know _how_?”

“I don’t know,” he snaps. “What does it matter?”

This time, Byleth yanks his face back to hers to kiss him again, not bothering to answer with words. The kiss is biting and aggressive and Felix finds himself backed up until his knees hit the edge of the small cot at the side of the room. He grabs her wrists, stopping her from shoving him down, and pulls his lips away from hers, dragging in a ragged breath.

It doesn’t seem to deter Byleth, who continues pressing bites and kisses across his jaw and down his neck, pulling the collar of his shirt out of the way.

Felix lets out an involuntary moan as she sucks a mark into his skin, and he feels her lips curve against his skin.

“Byleth.” He manages to breath out her name, and he releases her wrists only to grab her hands, tangling his fingers in hers.

She arches and drags herself against him, and her teeth scrape against the skin of his neck again. “Felix,” she murmurs, breath hot against him.

“I’m not going anywhere, you know.”

Byleth stills. “I _don’t_ know.”

He sighs. “At least, I’m not going anywhere without you, okay?”

She draws back, looking him in the eye like she’s searching for something. But finally, she nods. “Good.” She detaches herself from him and this time when she shoves him onto the cot, Felix goes willingly, and pulls her down on top of him.

**Epilogue – Hubert**

Hubert sorts efficiently through his messages, quickly picking out what he knows to be the most important and pressing matters.

He pauses when he sees a letter from one of his Leicester informants. He’d not expected to hear from her so soon.

Disrupting his usual routine – as this is of middling importance and can really wait – Hubert tears open this letter first, and quickly works through the code to decipher it.

As he does, he can’t help but laugh – something his work rarely gives him a reason to do.

How amusing to think that their dear Professor had just been pining away for Fraldarius all this time.

Hubert can only hope Byleth has written to Edelgard herself. His Lady will be most displeased if she hears of Byleth’s marriage to Felix through one of Hubert’s spies, after all.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope someone enjoyed my little _Final Fantasy VIII_ reference.
> 
> And I've written two fics with the same prompt. 👀 Tomorrow is another life after war story, except it's Azure Moon. (All the day 5 prompts gave me sad ideas with no happy endings and I'm not about that life.)
> 
> (me, checking this fic for typos in October 2020...... Talina is probably actually a pegicorn? Winged unicorn? idk man)


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